The Bet
by D Wilde
Summary: Quinn and Rachel have a bet at the end of their senior year of high-school.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have been thinking of this for the past 2 months. I'm not sure how often I can update this but previous experience shows that reviews definitely make me feel obligated to write faster. Hope you like this. And of course, no copyright infringement intended. Hope you enjoy it!**

**The video Quinn is talking about can be found at ****/watch?v=_1kETLlGn-8**

**PS English isn't my native language so expect mistakes as I don't have a beta. And if anyone wants to beta for me, I'll be delighted ;)**

**Here we go.**

from: Quinn Fabray

to: Rachel Berry

date: Sun, Nov 16, 2014 at 11:16 PM

subject: You owe me your first Tony award

Dear Rachel,

Please be aware that our bet(video attached) is now over and you have to pay up. The proof of my victory (and Jane Fonda is indisputable) is the link below. I am in a good mood so I will be willing to wait until June to collect my prize.

Regards,

Quinn Fabray.

_Attached to the email there indeed was a video. Intrigued I clicked on it and was instantly assaulted with loud noises that were best described as "McKinley graduation 2012". Whoever was filming it was too excited so the picture was blurry, unfocused, and jumpy. But I could distinctly hear Santana and Puck's laughter, someone vomiting, and some catchy pop hit that we probably covered in Glee._

_"Oh my God! Berry! Stop with this Bieber playlist! If I have to hear your drunk ass sing Boyfriend again I swear I will literally punch you in the throat!"_

_"Quinn, as I am sure you're not able to act in such violent manner I think you mean figuratively, not literally. It really is quite upsetting to hear our valedictorian speak with very obvious grammatical errors."_

_"First of all, miss I-am-never-drinking-alcohol-before-21, I am this close to mean it not figuratively! And secondly, literally has been used this way for so long it won't surprise me if all dictionaries sanction another definition! And it will probably happen much earlier than Justin Bieber making adequate music for anyone over 13 years old!"_

_"I cannot believe I'm hearing such blasphemy from you, Quinn Fabray! I am willing to bet my first Tony that it will not happen in our lifetime!"_

_"Ha! Deal! Just don't cry when you have to give it to me!"_

_The video came to end at that exact moment freezing on Quinn's amused and smug smile. I cringed subconsciously at how right she really was about Bieber's music. But to this day, if I get even a little tipsy, my inner 13 year old pop-loving girl comes out and demands Justin Bieber. I tried to persuade my therapist that it is a symptom of a bigger deeper problem but he's not budging yet. I chuckled, remembering his long sigh at the last session, and clicked on the link Quinn sent. I had a growing feeling of uneasiness in my chest that I know what the video will be. My dance partner was an avid Aaron Sorkin fan, so I had to hear all about Newsweek every Monday class. I couldn't suppress the groan escaping my lips as the first seconds of the video confirmed my suspicions. Damn you, Jane Fonda! And Quinn, that minx! She must know that the musical I got cast in has been raising rumors of Tony nominations already! I felt my heart being fast even at the mere thought of getting a Tony at 19. No matter how many years I was preparing myself to stardom, it still felt surreal to be cast as a leading actress in the revival of "She loves me". I was still attending NYADA as a sophomore for Barbra's sake! My heart nearly stopped at the fleeting thought of having to give away my Tony to Quinn. I needed to reply to her email and settle it right this instant._

from: Rachel Berry

to: Quinn Fabray

date: Mon, Nov 17, 2014 at 12:05 AM

subject: RE: You owe me your first Tony award

Dear Quinn,

I am happy to hear from you after two years of no communication. I have watched both videos and have to regretfully agree that you have, in fact, won the bet. In my defense, I have been extremely drunk at the time we made the bet and couldn't make such serious decisions. Therefore, I beg you! Let's substitute the wager with something else? Anything else you want.

Hope you're doing well.

Sincerely,

Rachel* Barbra Berry.

_That will fix this, right?_

from: Quinn Fabray quinnlfabray 

to: Rachel Berry rachelbarbraberry 

date: Wed, Nov 21, 2014 at 5:31 PM

subject: You owe me your first Tony award

Berry,

Only because it's Thanksgiving I will let you change the wager. Holiday spirit is important or something. Instead of giving your precious Tony to me, at the acceptance speech for it you will dedicate the award to me.

I'm doing well, glad to be going to a long break soon. I'd ask how you were but your Facebook updates keep me in touch with the entirety of your daily routine. Are that many pictures of Central Park hiking really necessary?

Quinn.

P.S. Obviously I don't mind the pictures. My roommate is your fan and she squeals really loudly anytime you post anything. THAT is annoying, so thanks.

_I laughed reading the email. I could practically hear Quinn say it all including the post scriptum. I could easily squeal myself from the sheer knowledge of having a fan! It was exciting!_

_However, I now was faced with a different problem: having to dedicate my possible (oh my god!) Tony to a girl who has bullied me for two years, became my somewhat friend for a year, and then just a Facebook friend for the next two. Truthfully, I had no idea what Quinn was up to since high school. Well, I knew she was still enrolled in Yale, didn't have a boyfriend and had an article published in some acclaimed journal. I remembered Santana's post on Facebook: "My main bitch Quinnie F. is now a published author if an article in some snobby journal accounts for being a published author. Anyways, congrats to Q or something, you came a long way from being a depressed punk of McKinley and Lucy Q must be feeling really proud and shit for you right now!" There were about a hundred likes on that post, mainly from McKinley people and I clearly remember my surprise when I saw that Santana had been friends with Sue Sylvester and Mr. Schue, because they liked and commented on the post "That's not hard. Try winning a Nobel Peace prize for finishing off ISIS, that's hard!" and "Always believed in you, Quinn! And language, Santana!" respectively._

_Back to my problem though. I couldn't very well ask Quinn to change the badger again. So I would have to meet up with her and persuade her that me dedicating a Tony to her wasn't what she wanted._

_Easy-peasy._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am planning to continue and finish this story. Real life just gets in way and so I am never sure how fast I can update. But reviews make me feel like I owe my readers to write faster, so you know how to make me update a bit quicker ;). This chapter is sort of a filler, so it's very short. After this one, they should be much longer. Thanks for reading. Always thank you. Here we go.**

Grand Central was one of my most favorite places in the city. It was just as crowded as Times Square, but it also had some weird sense of intimacy about it. It reminded me of Heathrow Airport in _Love Actuall_y: all the people meeting, hugging, and kissing. Not to mention, the guy from HONY frequented this place and I liked to think that one day he'd stop me and ask me some questions, and take a photo of me. Wouldn't that be grand? Yeah, I know. It's also a little pathetic. But at this exact moment of my life I was, in fact, pathetic: standing at a train station, waiting for a girl only to subtly beg her to forget all about a bet we had in high school.

"Hey, Berry, long time no see," I heard the raspy voice really close to my ear and nearly jumped out of surprise. Putting my best "happy to see you" face on I turned around and faced Quinn. Quinn Fabray, who hasn't changed a single bit since our years at McKinley and at the same time changed completely. I don't know what it was: her shorter than I was used to hair, her small nose piercing, or the platinum blonde hair color she had going on. Whatever it was that changed it still looked gorgeous, and just like every time I have seen her I was awed with how seemingly unaware of her own beauty she was.

"Hi, Quinn. It has been far too long!" I exclaimed and cringed inwardly at my own excitement. Not that it was not exciting to see my former almost friend, but it also sounded a bit desperate. Quinn, however, just smiled at me and gestured towards the nearest exit.

"So, how are things at NYADA? And Broadway? Congrats, by the way. I don't think any of us ever doubted you are gonna make it," she said louder as we were walking through the crowds to go outside of Grand Central.

I smiled at her gratefully and chuckled at the 15 year old Rachel Berry who was doing a little dance in my mind.

"I'm doing very well, thanks. NYADA is amazing and challenging and just all I've dreamed about. Broadway is… It's Broadway! It's the best place in the world!" I answered enthusiastically. "Do you want to go to this small coffee shop around the corner, it's quiet and we can catch up without screaming at one another" I suggested.

"Lead the way, Broadway star."

I couldn't believe I was sitting in my favorite coffee place with Quinn Fabray. She was a lot more open that I remembered. She was laughing at my awkward jokes and even spilled her latte giggling at the unbelievable story of how I was propositioned with sex by two of my classmates. It was very endearing to see the once inhumanly gracious cheerleader being so very, well, human and down to earth. She told me couple of her embarrassing college stories. She was very happy to be in Yale, it seems. She told me that her classmates were smart and challenging, her professors were mostly nice and she loved Connecticut. She also said she was glad being away from her family and experiencing life without the judgement that small town like Lima always preventing her from experimenting, whatever that meant.

"Okay, let's get serious now and get back to our bet. What do you propose we do instead the original settlement?"

I sighed dramatically and made my best puppy eyes at her.

"Honestly, Quinn, I don't know what you want me to say. How can I give you my Tony, even if I get it? And dedicating the award to you is no better, really. What do you suggest?"

"Go out with me?"

Now it was my turn to spill my drink. In fact, I choked on it and spit it all over the blonde across the table.

"Whoa, a simple no would have sufficed!" Quinn blushed (why was she blushing? It was me embarrassing the hell out of myself!)

"But… you're… you're straight." was all I could come up with.

"I'm asking you out. That is a horrible heterosexual behavior, wouldn't you say?" Quinn raised her eyebrow not looking at me, still wiping off my coffee off of her collar.

"Yeah… Are you serious?" I was flabbergasted. Seriously, was there something in her drink? I always thought this place was respectable and wouldn't stoop down as to spiking their patrons' beverages.

"Do I look like I'm joking? And you still haven't answered."

"Wow. I'm just shocked. I would never think you'd be interested in something like this, honestly. And me? Really? Me?"

"Yes, Rachel. You. I. Am. Asking. You. Out." Quinn finally looked at me and smiled shyly.

"Yes. I will go out with you." I wasn't sure how this would work out with her in a different state and me always busy with rehearsals and school. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't flattered that this beautiful and smart and genuinely fun girl was interested in me.

And I finally realized what has changed in Quinn Fabray I used to know. She looked really happy where she was right now.


End file.
